


Queen in Play

by Spiritheart



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Bottom Damen (Captive Prince), Laurent has a friend, M/M, Mild Angst with a happy ending, Nikandros gets a surprise, Remembering Auguste, Romantic Fluff, Shameless Smut, Sword practice gets sexy, That one spring before Marlas, They are so in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiritheart/pseuds/Spiritheart
Summary: A famed Queen on the run arrives at the border palace bringing news of strife in Patras and bittersweet memories of the spring before Marlas.Damen felt mixed annoyance at the interruption with rising curiosity about this famed Queen arriving at nightfall during near impassable weather. He considered treachery, an imposter and other schemes. He knew Laurent was sorting through all the same scenarios and no doubt others. He came back from his thoughts as Laurent gave a gentle nudge to his shoulder. “You might sit up and look less like you’ve been making love all day, Damen. Or as though you can’t be bothered to be disturbed from continuing.”Damen roused himself enough to sit next to Laurent on the low couch. “We aren’t exactly prepared for a state visit and I can’t help the way I look.” Warmth spread through his chest as Laurent looked him over with affection and no little appreciation, saying, “Perhaps the Queen will find you as irresistible in this state as I do.”





	Queen in Play

It had been raining torrents all day. The Kings had been ensconced in their chambers since finishing morning audiences. It was late summer, a time they had set aside for overseeing construction on their border palace and a respite from the courts of Vere and Akielos.

“I am trying to read Damen,” Laurent said in mock exasperation. Damen gathered him closer and despite his reprove Laurent settled back contently into his embrace. They were reclining near the fireplace on the low couch Laurent had designed and commissioned to accommodate two and Damen’s size.

Laurent looked up from the missive they had been reading and turned saying, “Nikandros is your oldest friend. Don’t you care to know about his latest lover?”

Damen enjoyed this view of Laurent, the languid arrangement of his limbs, his kiss swollen mouth and languorous eyes before replying with lazy amusement, “Nikandros wrote to tell us he has a new lover? That is not exactly state business.” In fact it wasn’t any kind of news, Nikandros always had a new lover.

“I’ve caught you out. You weren’t reading at all.” Laurent said, his eyes glinting with sweet triumph. “This isn’t even correspondence from Nikandros. It is an invitation from Makedon to hunt this fall.”

Damen continued to enjoy being curved around Laurent, luxuriating in a haze where arousal and satiation mingled. His body felt saturated with pleasure, yet desire still sang across his skin. This was but an interlude in their stolen day of lovemaking. As it grew dark, they realized they were ravenous, had called for food and after, Laurent had picked up some correspondence to read.

I’m not really interested in Nikandros or Makedon presently,” Damen said distractedly.

“Are you trying to surpass your six-hour record with your gladiator?”

“Seven,” Damen automatically corrected. “You know we’ve already outdone that a while back.” Feeling a frisson of concern, he said, “Are my attentions overwhelming you?”

“You know I like to be overwhelmed.” Laurent replied casually but Damen heard the truth in his voice. He would never be used to Laurent loving him, vulnerably needing him and allowing him to devastatingly take him apart. He glided his hand along Laurent’s jaw up into his beautifully mussed hair, wanting to return into that place where their boundaries dissolved. Laurent responded with a soft murmur of acquiescence, his mouth parting slightly as he anticipated Damen’s kiss.

There was a sharp rap on the door, signaling the guard needed entrance. Damen fell back on the pillows with a growl of frustration, even as Laurent called out briskly, “Enter!”

The guard opened the door and their Captain, Jord entered. “Exalteds.”

Damen shifted to alert readiness. Jord wouldn’t be disturbing them for anything other than a significant event. “What is it Jord?”

“A woman requiring audience. She claims she is the Queen of Patras,” Jord replied. His expression was honest as always, indicating curiosity and some caution. Damen could sense Laurent thinking quickly and elaborately.

“There has been occasional report of intrigue in the Patran court, but we have received no news equal to this.” Damen considered. “And yet, it is not impossible. There may have been a coup. How large is her party?”

Jord answered, “She is with a small guard of seven and a child. They surrendered their weapons without protest and looked to have been riding hard. Their mounts are almost blown.”

‘And she herself?” asked Laurent.

Jord, who could be trusted to have good instincts and be forthright with his assessment answered, “She is definitely high born and gave every indication of being used to command.”

“Bring her,” decided Laurent, glancing back to Damen, seeking agreement. Damen said, “Yes,” with a put-upon tone.

“Yes, Exalted. Immediately.” Jord gave Damen a quick glance of sympathy as he left .

Laurent leaned back on the couch to face Damen. “Queen Laria, a minor noblewoman, raised up by Torgier to queen six years ago,” he considered. “She is said to be beautiful as a goddess.” He added. “Or so the bards say.” A bit ironically.

“And unwilling to be Tourgier’s concubine.” responded Damen.

“Yes, and so she became Queen.” Laurent added.

Damen felt mixed annoyance at the interruption and rising curiosity about this famed Queen arriving at nightfall during near impassable weather. He considered treachery, an imposter and other schemes. He knew Laurent was sorting through all the same scenarios and no doubt others. He came back from his thoughts as Laurent gave a gentle nudge to his shoulder. “You might sit up and look less like you’ve been making love all day, Damen. Or as though you can’t be bothered to be disturbed from continuing.”

Damen roused himself enough to sit next to Laurent on the low couch. “We aren’t exactly prepared for a state visit and I can’t help the way I look.” Warmth spread through his chest as Laurent looked him over with affection and no little appreciation, saying, “Perhaps the Queen will find you as irresistible in this state as I do.”

Damen ran a hand through his long curls. The Kings had set a fashion for long hair, as they were both partial the look of it on each other. “Is this better?”

Laurent closed his eyes with an exasperated laugh. “Not exactly Damen. Let me attend you.”

Damen sat still as Laurent looked him over, brushed his hands through his hair a few different ways, looking bemused and adjusted his tunic to rights. Damen enjoyed his ministrations and the endearing carefulness with which he did them. “There is no help for this,” Laurent said with helpless affection. Of course Laurent appeared collected with just a shift of his posture and a toss of his hair.

Jord and the guard arrived in full force, surrounding a cloaked figure. The entrance alcove was darkened with their chamber lit by only the hearth fire and a few lamps placed about. She stepped forward into the light, brushing back her tangled hair, and revealing a strained but lovely countenance. She trained the full force of extraordinary azure eyes on them both. Damen felt Laurent become taut and shift forward slightly.

“King Laurent, King Damianos, my thanks.” She began in a low, velvet voice, waiting for no permission or acknowledgment. “There has been a coup in Patran. My husband, Torgier, King of Patras, has been murdered by his cousin Aselin. I am seeking sanctuary for my son, Calen, my household and myself.”

Damen took her in. Even drenched, exhausted and on the run, she was arresting. Tall and voluptuous with hair that glowed copper in the firelight and a face that gave proof to the bard’s praise. He glanced to Laurent, who was uncharacteristically silent.

He quickly took charge. “Lady, please sit. Warm yourself by the fire. Bring hot food and drink,” Damen commanded the servant who had entered with the guard. “Would you have your son join us?”

“No!” Laria interrupted. Then, regaining her composure, “No, I thank you. I have my lady with Calen. My entourage has been made welcome by your staff.”

“What of Torveld?” Damen asked after the Patran prince that was their friend.

Laria explained that her guard reported Torveld had left early for hunting on the day of the murder and therefore had been away from the castle. “I do not know if Aselin expected him be still abed.” The implications were there between them. Damen and Laurent exchanged a look that spoke much without words.

During that exchange, Laria assessed her situation. The kings, reputed to be lovers, clearly were. She had interrupted and invaded their obvious intimacy. They were in dishabille, sitting closely together on this extraordinarily large couch. To accommodate King Damianos size she presumed. He did not appear as fearsome as his reputation although he was powerfully built with a striking masculine beauty that drew her eye. King Laurent looked a King out of a legend, all golden hair, elegant bones and imperious mien.

Laria made a decision. She was at a disadvantage in the state she was in, drenched, exhausted and in shock. She suddenly wasn’t able to think beyond the fact that Calen and her closest allies were safe.

“If you would please you, I would be grateful for some time to care for my son and refresh myself from the journey.” It was between a request and a command.

“Of course.” agreed Damen. “ Jord, have the steward arrange chambers for the Queen and her party in the west wing. Bring her all she needs. We will resume in the morning?”

Laria inclined her head in subtle thanks and left gracefully. Damen noticed her eyes linger on Laurent but then that was not unusual. Most people had a hard time taking their eyes off Laurent.

Laurent shifted from the couch to stir the fire, his brow smooth and his expression inward. Damen resumed a comfortable lounge against the pillows. “This is an interesting turn of events.” Laurent began. “She was allied with Auguste.”

“A minor noblewoman for the future King of Vere?” Damen said, intrigued by this news.

“Yes, well, Auguste met her during a state visit to Patras. It was love he said.” Laurent gave Damen a fond look from the side of his eyes. “Father would deny him nothing. She has some old Veretian nobility in her lineage. Accommodations were made. When Auguste died, she refused everyone. Until Tourgier ascended to the the Kingship. He pursued her as a concubine but after being the affianced of the Prince of Vere…”

Damen moved to Laurent, drawn as always to be near him. There was the usual happiness that occurred every time Laurent confided a new dimension of his relationship with his brother. Little by little, they spoke of Auguste more easily, naturally. Damen had come to feel he almost knew Auguste and it gave him great pleasure to keep the memory of Auguste alive for Laurent.

“Perhaps she loved Auguste. It has been known to happen.” He stroked Laurent along his jaw to the pulse in his throat, slowly, then traced the path with his lips, sucking gently.

Laurent gave a soft murmur of helpless pleasure then pushed against Damen’s chest, gaining space. “Even now, after this day…your touch…” His expression was bewildered and vulnerable as he looked up. Damen felt the center of his chest clench in tenderness, moved by Laurent’s wonder that love and desire could be this fierce and constant. “It is the same for me.” Damen spoke softly, intimately, that familiar pull towards Laurent igniting.

“There is much to do before we meet with the Queen tomorrow.” Laurent declared decisively, giving Damen a glance over his shoulder as he moved away. “Let us send out couriers to gather what we can.” His words said, not now, but his look said he regretted it. Damen followed but undeterred said, “Yes, let us do that and then…”

 

\---------------------------------------

Laria took stock of her position. The events of the past few days seemed jumbled. She had vivid images of certain moments and others seemed a dream, since Stravos, her captain had thundered into her chambers with the news of Tougier’s assassination. They had rushed through the back gate to the Keep of the Queen’s guard. She had the stark image of Calen keeping his eyes on her every movement as if she might disappear. They had swiftly donned riding attire from the Keep, retrieved their weapons, and mounted quickly to ride west. In this type of coup the entire royal family was often executed and terror nipped at their heels.

The first night they found fresh horses and food at her cousin’s estate, but not wanting to bring trouble there, had pressed on. By then, Laria, Stravos and her closest companion Shevenay had determined staying in Patras and taking refuge with family or allies could be a trap. Vask was considered but it was not a culture that welcomed boy children. Laria had a sudden inspiration that the young kings of Akielos and Vere, who had overcome similar betrayals from within, may offer understanding and protection.

She brought little of value, some coin kept within the Keep and jewels she’d been wearing. Of course she had her beauty, her long vaunted beauty, but this was no lure to two Kings partnered body, soul and kingdom. She laughed bemusedly. For once her beauty mattered not and how weary she was of men’s lust, having been sought after by men of every rank since she was 13.

Damianos had seemed sympathetic. There was something reassuring in the way he had watched her with concern in his dark eyes. Laurent had been guarded and studied her in silence. She could not decipher anything from his aloof expression. She gathered Calen to her, as he lay in trustingly sprawled in the bed, let her eyes close and felt sleep pull her under.

 

Chapter 2

News had come by courier from outposts in Vere and Akielos of the Patran coup. Direct news from Patras was not forthcoming as yet. Although their scouts had been dispatched to gather intelligence last evening, it would take a few days for their return. Damen and Laurent read the couriers reports while they breakfasted on fruit, soft cheese and toasted bread. The day was fair and Damen felt an urge to quit the palace to oversee progress on the gardens honoring his father and Auguste. He restrained his need for movement and prepared or the audience with Queen Laria.

“What do you expect from the Patran Queen?” Damen asked Laurent, who looked up from a message he’d been writing. “Do you believe she desires to avenge her husband’s murder? Might she ally herself with Torveld or another of the princes and request our aid? We have heard little of her being a power within the court.”

“No, she appears to have lived a quiet life away from court as much as possible, which does not predict her course at this juncture,” Laurent agreed, setting aside his quill and resting one arm across his raised leg.

“We are allies of Patras, but Aselin is not a legitimate King.”

“As the Patrans choose Kings by council vote, not strictly the hereditary line, this will be for their council to decide. In the meanwhile we may be courted by various factions to assist their claim. We have hope Torveld has survived but no assurance. Laria is a prize for those seeking a foothold towards the crown. It is best if the Queen’s location is unknow,” Laurent summarized. He turned back and finished his missive, calling for a servant to deliver it to the courier.

Laria arrived and was granted entrance. She was graceful and relaxed, wearing a borrowed dress of lavender silk that accented her golden touched ivory skin and revealed a gorgeous length of neck and full décolletage. Her red gold hair was loose and luxuriant. Laurent indicated a chair across from them.

She gazed directly at Laurent and then Damen. “I thank you for refuge. I am no longer Queen, nor I do not wish to be. I come to you this morning as simple Laria Solialay of the House of Lac Prere. I do not come with requests for any assistance beyond shelter for my son and myself until the strife in Patras is stabilized and I can determine how best to return or not. “

“You ask little, Queen Laria, and yet much. If your presence is known our kingdom could be drawn into this conflict.” Laurent replied.

Laria inclined her head in agreement and smiled mischievously. “Or I could be used to your advantage.” The smile gave her face an unexpectedly merry cast. “One hears you are a formidable strategist. You must see the advantages as well.”

“Damen requires a Queen. An alliance with the Patran Queen has advantages.” Laurent mused, toying with a grape stem on his plate.

Damen gave an irritated breath and frowned at Laurent, who appeared completely at his ease as he pursued this unexpected topic.

Laurent continued evenly. “It is a good idea. We need an heir, hence a Queen. You have experience in that area I believe.“ It was on the edge of careless insult.

Damen considered that Laurent was testing Laria with this direction of inquiry and waited to see how it played.

Laria responded. “I am not looking for a husband or a kingdom. Although if I was, I would be tempted.” She gave Damen a frank look of appraisal and approval. Here, Damen saw the allure she had kept banked until now. Her body adjusted subtly and suddenly one was very aware that her body was lush, her lips soft and ready to be kissed. Her eyes…dangerously lovely.

Damen was not unaffected. However, it was Laurent who captivated him as he adjusted his demeanor as well, radiating a response to Laria that was the match of the most expensive Pet. Her response was a laugh so free and unaffected that she suddenly seemed much younger. “Oh well met!” she exclaimed.

Damen felt off balance as if he was on the outside of a jest, yet intrigued by this unexpected byplay. “Now if you two are through planning my marriage or determining my desirability…. or yours, let us be back to the issues at hand.”

This provoked Laurent and Laria into shared laughter. Just like that, Laria and Laurent were co-conspirators. They were looking at each other, as if they liked each other and Damen was unsure of where he was in this exchange. Laurent didn’t often like people. This was completely out of character. Damen realized he had never seen him this unguarded with anyone but himself.

“You know each other!” he realized. He had not thought this alliance with Auguste would have given Laurent any opportunity to befriend Laria. Veretians had strict etiquette about such things.

“Well, yes. You didn’t think Auguste was the only one to meet his betrothed did you?” said Laurent giving him a fond look. “There was a spring when Laria visited as part of the negotiations. It seems she liked obnoxious little brothers. She didn’t mind my tagging along with Auguste on their rides and promenades. When he was busy, which was often, we read together and debated philosophy. She taught me to dance.”

“In truth Laurent and I were closer in age, than Auguste and I. I may have been taken for a woman, but I was in many ways still a girl. Auguste overawed me, I was too young then for his wooing.” Laria explained. “Laurent helped me evade all that lovemaking.”

She made an adorable moue and continued. “We had a pact, that he would never leave me alone with Auguste. Auguste could always evade my ladies, but Laurent was unstoppable. He popped up at the most inopportune moments…. for Auguste.” She smiled winsomely, catching Laurent’s eye.

“Laria beat me at a race. I had to be her chaperone as a result. This was what we told Auguste. It was a matter of honor.” Laurent explained, his face mock serious.

Laria beat Laurent in a race? No one beat Laurent in a race. “Well I rode Auguste’s stallion.” explained Laria “and our horse master was Vaskian.” She shrugged off handedly.

Damen stayed quiet, simply looking between them as they reminisced. Clearly they delighted in each other’s company. Damen realized he had never seen Laurent like this; boyish, flirtatious. So must he have been before Auguste died and the Regent abused him

Damen nodded and turned to Laria. “I would hear stories of this clever and naughty Laurent sometime Lady.” Damen spoke to Laria but his eyes lingered warmly on Laurent’s bright face still alight with memories.

“My son is all I have and he is everything to me.” Laria said quietly. “I knew only to come to you Laurent. I had little time to plan. If I am an inconvenience, or a danger to your kingship, I will leave. I will understand.”

“We have faced much more treacherous situations than this you bring Laria,” Laurent replied.  
“You are welcome as is Calen. Might we meet him now that he is rested?”

Damen looked at Laurent with concertation. Since when was he fond of children?

“Oh yes!” Laria answered, her face blushing with shy maternal pride. “If you call for my lady she will bring him.”

“Let us go to the gardens,” Laurent suggested, standing and moving towards the open veranda. “The rains are over and it is a fine day.” Damen was again, always, stunned by his casual beauty, a nimbus of golden light highlighting his glowing hair as he moved gracefully towards the doorway. “We will meet you by the fountains.”

Laria was escorted out and Damen joined Laurent as they strolled from the veranda down into the gardens. The air was mild as the sun burned through the clouds.

“You have an old friend.” Damen ventured gently. “Laurent, to know there was a spring you knew such happiness…”

“Yes, Laria was my friend. My first and only friend. Auguste, well, he was my brother,” admitted Laurent somewhat shyly. He looked so adorable, with his long eye lashes cast down and a faint flush to his cheeks that Damen was helplessly charmed.

“Were you in love with her?” Damen imagined it possible.

“In love? I was but thirteen.” Laurent looked thoughtful. “After a fashion perhaps. She belonged to Auguste but she was more comfortable with me. I didn’t understand my feelings. She was perhaps like a sister to me. She worried for me, teased me, scolded me. She confided her heart. It was…everything I had never had.”

They settled near the fountains on long curved benches and watched as Laria approached hand in hand with her son. His hair was near white and he wore the traditional clothing of Patran, soft breeches of dark blue and a hip length tunic belted in sky blue. Laria spoke to him softly, stopping as he approached alone.

As he came closer, Damen heard Laurent draw in a startled breath. Calen spoke with the clear treble of childhood and bowed from the waist. “Greetings King Damianos, King Laurent.” As he looked up again, Damen realized why Laurent was acting so unsettled. Calen was a child of, perhaps eight years old, his ivory hair framing a face of familiar startling beauty.

Laurent was struck and silent so Damen stepped into the breach, “Welcome, Calen. Come sit with us. You too Laria, please.” He looked to Laurent who was staring between Laria and Calen, his expression intense with near overwhelming emotion.

Laria enclosed Calen with her arm as they settled next to each other. He had his mother’s warm turquoise eyes, but all else reminded Damen of another.

“Calen, this is your uncle Laurent.” Laria said. Calen smiled sweetly at Laurent. “Hello, Uncle.”

Laurent stood abruptly. “He is Auguste’s son?”

“Yes,” said Laria quietly. Then again. “Yes.” Her expression was one of fierce pride.

Laurent moved to Calen, like one entering into a dream and carefully seated himself next to him. He studied him with quiet intensity and then recovering himself replied softly. “I am very glad to meet you Nephew.”

Damen watched amazed, as Laurent spoke gently to Calen and drew him out, talking about games he liked and horses. Damen watched, smiling encouragingly towards Calen when he glanced his way. Laurent was absorbed, even entranced by his new nephew. His easy way of interacting with Calen was a revelation to Damen. Laurent would make a good father, Damen realized with sudden clarity.

Laria watched quietly, but Damen could sense the intensity of her restrained emotion. Laurent suggested Calen and he go to the stables. Laria nodded her consent, giving Laurent a smile of heart-breaking joy. As they walked off together, Calen’s hand in Laurent’s, her eyes met Damen’s and she began to weep. Damen instinctually, gathered her in his arms. She was fragrant with sandalwood and a solid armful. Comforting turned to an awareness of her breast crushed against his side and her return to self-consciousness as she said under her breath, “By the gods, Laria.” A self-reproach.

She gave a shaky breath, and extracted herself, murmuring, “I’m sorry, I think I have made a wet mess of your tunic.” She covered her face with both hands, then laughed helplessly, still on the edge of tears. “Oh, it is absurd. In the last days I have been severed from my homeland, flown to sanctuary here, introduced my son to his uncle, once my dearest friend and now, fallen apart in his consort’s arms! I am losing my composure, any vestige of being a queen… but it feels… so freeing!” she concluded, sitting back and attempting to gather herself. She shook her head ruefully and widened her eyes at Damen.

She is so unexpected, such a gift to Laurent, thought Damen. Laurent had her friendship and love for a season, before Marlas and before the Regent. And now a nephew, Auguste’s son.

“Laria,” Damen ventured. “Laurent has told me some your history together. Enough to know what you have meant to him. I am grateful that you have returned to Laurent and brought him his nephew.”

“I have some such to explain I know,” admitted Laria.

“You owe me no explanations Laria. I am, Damianos, Prince Killer. If not for me, you would be Queen of Vere and Auguste the King.” Damen’s shoulders clenched with regret.

“If not for the rivalry of Kings, if not for the war men endlessly wage and if not for Auguste’s be damned honor.” Her voice and expression conveyed weariness much beyond her age. “Life has given me opportunity to learn that war is cruel and heroes die.” She looked away, her expression distant.

Damen felt the weight she carried but when she turned back her face had cleared. “ In your forging of two enemy kingdoms there is a hope for something different that Patras might follow. Like any mother I want a world of peace for my son and so let there be peace between us Damianos.”

Damen gravely replied. “I would like that.”

“Then that is settled.” Laria smiled tremulously. “You are very like him.”

“Tell me of him. “ Damen sensed she needed to speak of Auguste and was drawn to hear about him as always.

“Oh, he was a force of nature, instinctive, honorable, and very male.” This said with a long glance over Damen. “He was stubborn and insistent on whatever course he took, harboring no doubts. Others followed him as if he was their sun and lived for one of his…well he had this way of throwing back his head and laughing with his whole body. He was hard to resist.” Her face was tender with reminisces. “He came to me before Marlas for the betrothal to be completed. In that short week, Calen was conceived. I know it was not the Veretian way but some things cannot be denied.”

Damen said nothing, the same regret that he might have parlayed with Auguste and avoided combat with him still lingered. The awareness that this one event had many consequences impacted him once again, yet he was aware of the fortune that reunited Laurent, Laria and Calen and felt a bittersweet pang.

They were quiet together for a bit. Then Damen suggested, “In Patras, is Calen known as Auguste’s son?”

“I have never confirmed it. Of course there was speculation. My family knows of course and Calen. Torgier allowed him to live with me. That was a part of the marital negotiations and repartitions.

“Reparations?” asked Damen.

“When I would not become his concubine he forced me.” Her face betrayed a fine edged revulsion as she continued, “My family sought recompense from the Patran Council. It was decided Torgier would marry me.” She shuddered. “This was not the solution I sought. Quite the opposite. I refused unless Calen was allowed to stay with me.”

Damen was quiet. Then, “I am sorry.”

“Yes, so recent events are not entirely unwelcome.” Laria confided with a satisfied look.

Damen rose, offering his arm to Laria. “Let us find them. To the stables?” His chest felt warm and full with all that had occurred that morning. He felt a sudden urgency to find Laurent and speak privately, to share the happiness of Calen, a part of Auguste that survived.

Laria held back, “I will stay here and further compose myself. I will send my lady to collect Calen and return him to our rooms for the mid-day meal. Perhaps Laurent and you will need some time together? As do Calen and I.”

Their eyes met in understanding as they parted and Damen felt anticipation of seeing Laurent surge and set his step quickening through the garden path to the stables.

 

Chapter Three

Damen had found Calen and Laurent in the courtyard near the stables, playing with some new puppies a hunting bitch had whelped a few months ago. Calen was being swarmed by licking, jumping puppies and Laurent was smiling as he watched. He looked unencumbered and so very young. Calen escaped from the puppies and threw himself at Laurent, smiling and saying, “Save me Uncle! I am outnumbered!” Laurent caught him and held him above the fray. Calen, wrapped his arms around Laurent’s neck and they laughed together as the puppies nipped at Laurent’s boots and one caught a dangling trouser lace and pulled.

Damen simply watched as they struggled together. Calen’s profile was a miniature version of Laurent’s. Damen realized he was being given a chance to view Laurent as a boy and as the father he could be.

“Uncle, we must retreat!” urged Calen as Laurent backed away dragging the persistent pup that gamely locked on his lace. Yes, thought Damen. Laurent needed to be a father. His decision to end his line was clearly a one made from the pain of loss, betrayal and abuse.

“It looks as if you could use reinforcements!” Damen called. They turned with surprise and Laurent said sternly, “Make yourself useful Damen before I lose not only but my dignity but my trousers!”

Damen bit back a reply about the usefulness of Laurent losing his trousers and distracted the feisty puppies away by whistling them to himself and calling for the keeper. Laurent helped Calen straighten his clothing and then retied his own trouser laces. They both were rather dirty and unkept none the less and Damen wondered what else had occurred while he and Laria spoke.

Laria’s companion approached, a long-limbed woman, stalking towards them dressed in light armor. Her dark blond braid was threaded with talismans of gold and silver. Damen vaguely recalled these were given in Vask for bravery in battle. This was no lady’s maid but a Vaskian clanswoman. Interesting choice of companion Damen thought. “I am Shevanay. I have come for Calen.” She spoke tersely and looked between Laurent and Damen, clearly measuring them for their worth.

“Greetings Shevenay”, Laurent said with a neutral expression. “You are welcome to use our practice yard and armory as you wish.”

She nodded and considered Laurent for a moment. “Thank you. I will.” Her gaze dismissed Laurent but lingered on Damen’s width of chest and height, her expression speculative. “You are Damianos. Kashel has a fine daughter by you. As a few other women claim.” She gave a wicked grin that lightened the attractive savagery of her demeanor. Damen found he had nothing to immediately say to that unexpected news.

“Come Calen.” She spoke excellent Veretian and showed no deference. That was very Vaskian.

“Go with Shevenay Calen. We will see each other tomorrow,” said Laurent as he held Calen’s shoulder. “And we will ride together and play with the puppies!” exclaimed Calen, looking up adoringly at Laurent. “Yes, we will do just that. Now go, your mother is waiting.” Calen gave Damen a grin and said merrily. “You can come too if you want!” His longish white gold hair swung exuberantly as he jumped around in excitement. “Thank you Calen,” replied Damen. “I will consider that.”

Once Calen and Shevenay left, Damen and Laurent stood looking at each other without words for a time. Damen wanted to be patient and give Laurent the time to catch up with the momentous events of the day. In accord, they began strolling through the stables to the pasture lanes shaded by noble old trees saved during the construction of their small elegant border palace, which had been designed for their personal preferences rather than a large court.

Laurent paused and turned to Damen. He leaned his head in the nook of Damen’s shoulder and neck. Damen gathered him close and gently stroked his back. “I can’t think.” Laurent murmured into Damen’s neck. “I feel…too much. I’m wishing Auguste could see him. I’m wanting Auguste to be here.” He moved back to look at Damen and there was wonder and grief warring in his face.

Damen said nothing. He had no words of comfort. Then, tentatively, “Does he remind you of Auguste? Are they alike?”

“He does. He has Auguste’s exuberance, his humor and curiosity. He looks very like him although he has his mother’s eyes.”

“He has the look of you as well. It is uncanny. I kept looking at him imagining I could see you as a boy,” ventured Damen.

“Auguste and I did look similar in many ways.”

“Laurent he has your beauty, the kind of beauty that inspires poetry and legend.” Damen said.

Laurent shrugged off the compliment. “He is a combination of two people I thought I had loved and lost. Yes, he reminds me of Auguste, very much, but Laria has a fair bit to do with the wonders of my nephew.”

“Yes”, mused Damen, “She is lovely and brave. I found her to be honest and forthright as well.’

Laurent replied somewhat coolly. “Has the Queen of Patran captured your interest?”

Damen shook his head and replied steadily “No, only you capture my interest Laurent.” Then wanting to reassure Laurent further, “And I am not looking for a queen, although you seemed to be pursuing one for me earlier."

“You have not been with a woman since the coupling fire two years ago. Now a daughter or more has come from that night.” Laurent gave him a look out of the side of his eyes, “You once said you preferred women. If you miss what a woman gives you, I would understand.” He looked both vulnerable and aloof as only Laurent could.

Damen could not bear that Laurent doubted his love and undying desire. He pulled Laurent to him decisively and ravished him with a heated kiss. “No.”

“Well then. If you insist. I am all yours.” Laurent breathed out softly his eyes glinting.

Damen kissed him again, reveling in the scent of Laurent’s heated skin, his soft, trembling mouth and the way he could feel the tumult of need in his response. Backing him up against a tree he pressed the hard length of his body into Laurent’s. “I do.”

“I am aware that you are growing quite, insistent.” Laurent murmured against Damen’s lips. He looked up, his gaze so shattered and softened by strong feelings that Damen released him, wondering if this was what Laurent truly wanted. Laurent remained lounging against the tree, loose limbed and undone. “You can’t seem to make up your mind. Are we making love in the open or are we not?”

“I don’t know. It seems there has been too much for you in this morning already,” replied Damen with concern.

“You are always too much and that has never stopped you. Come here and help me clear my head.” He looked vulnerable, imperious and lost.

“Laurent, as you say, you wish Auguste were alive to see his son. I can’t think you are inclined towards lovemaking with me considering this.”

“I do not want your tortured sense of responsibility. Have I not said…I cannot think…I cannot feel this much! Help me stop it all!” Laurent shook with intensity and ripped his lacing apart, grasping his own cock under the cloth of his trousers. “Or, I can help myself.” He leaned back against the tree and thrust into his hand, as his lacings freed him.

The sight of Laurent purposefully gliding his cock into his fist, his head thrown back in abandon against the tree, had Damen sweeping to his knees, covering Laurent’s hand with his own, helping him fuck his own hand, then licking the tip of his cock. “Let me, my love.” He looked up and saw Laurent shudder and surrender.

He took his time. Gently, insistently sucking the velvet head. Licking the sensitive underside. Nipping along his inner thighs. Rimming his entrance and then inserting a finger to stroke rhythmically as he took him deeply into his mouth. Then back to slow licking and pumping him with his fist.

Laurent groaned and grasped Damen’s head, twisting his hair and pulling him closer. Damen stroked his flank comfortingly as he drew out Laurent’s pleasure. Damen sought to love Laurent until he was mindless with sensation and released all restraint. He knew even now after years of togetherness Laurent could become bound up by conflicting desires to surrender and be in control. “Damen, please!” Laurent said in a broken, desperate voice. Damen took all of him in and began sucking his whole cock while Laurent thrust strongly and finally flooded Damen’s throat with a low cry of relief.

Damen stood and cupped Laurent’s face. “Come with me,” he commanded, giving Laurent a long intense kiss that was returned with a soft sigh of pleasure. Laurent followed him into the wheat field next the pasture lane. The wheat was fragrant and near tall enough for harvest. Damen stamped down a circle large enough for two, and spread his cloak on the crushed wheat. He took Laurent’s hand and pulled him down onto the cloak. The sun was past midday but towering clouds shaded them for the moment.

Laurent was quiet, lying on his back with his arm shielding his eyes as the sun returned. He turned to Damen and smiled sweetly. “You always give me what I need.” Damen returned his smile. “You always have, even before I knew the true man you are.”

Damen stroked Laurent’s cheek and smiled into his eyes, reveling in the great pleasure of caring for Laurent in all ways insignificant or demanding and the joy that Laurent trusted him to do so. They lay for a while, entwined and peaceful.

Damen was considering what Shevenay had said. He had a daughter. The thought of her was surprisingly affecting. By Vaskian law he had no claim on her, but nonetheless, it appeared Kashel acknowledged her parentage.

Laurent caught his thoughts as he often did. “You have a daughter.”

“You have a nephew.” Damen answered.

Without preamble, Laurent dove into his thoughts. “We’ve talked of heirs and succession but never with any urgency. We have been rather busy joining two kingdoms. Now we have Auguste’s son, the true heir of Vere and your daughter with Kashel.

“I hadn’t thought that through. If Calen were recognized he would be first in line to the throne. Of course you thought of that right away.”

“He isn’t legitimate. You know what that means in Vere. The stain of bastardy. No consummation before the council.” An ironic tone.

“For someone who couldn’t think a half an hour ago you seem to have cleared your head.” Damen teased. “Only you could entertain a newly acquired nephew and still order our succession, all in a morning”

“There is one way forward. Laria and I would need to marry. Under those circumstances the council would legitimize Calen. There is precedent.”

Damen, took a steadying breath. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes, I want Auguste’s son to be recognized and legitimized. The course of marrying Laria, that is complicated.”

“Not a Patran princess, but a Patran Queen after all.” Damen sat up, his arm across one raised leg and looked straight ahead. His chest clenched in confusion. Laurent, Laria and Calen would be a family. The symmetry of this was welcome and yet difficult.

Damen…Damen!” Laurent was in front of him kneeling, looking at him with concern. Damen realized he’d not heard anything more Laurent had said, feeling as if his world too had been inalterably changed in a day.

Damen saw the strain and concern in Laurent’s expression. He thought of Auguste, going to Laria before Marlas, the two of them with the bright optimism of youth having an interlude they thought would resume after the war. Then their future ended on the field at the stroke of his sword. Yet Calen survived. “I am just ordering it in my thoughts. Of course Calen needs to be recognized.” He gave Laurent a reassuring smile. “Laria may not have thought of this, but she did tell us she was not looking for marriage.”

“If it is in service of Calen being recognized as Auguste’s son she may respond differently.”

Damen thought to advise Laurent to caution. He rarely held back his opinion. In this he had an odd uncertainty and held his counsel.

Chapter Four

It was after evening meal, which had been served in Laria and Calen’s private suite. Laria listened attentively as Calen re-enacted the drama of the puppies for the third time since he’d returned from his morning with Laurent. “And then I saved Uncle after he saved me first!”

“You like your Uncle very much it seems!”

“Oh yes, he is very funny!”

Laria, put down the cup of wine she had been about to sip and in a surprised tone said. “Uncle Laurent is funny?”

“He told me a story about my father and how he let Uncle win races when he only had a pony and my father had a stallion. I laughed so much Mother! But I am too old for a pony and he shall allow me to ride a full-size horse. If you agree,” he amended, looking winningly at her.  
“Here, watch! I am Father!” Laria giggled as Calen acted out the part of riding a frustratingly slow-moving horse. “Now. I am Uncle!” He acted out the part of trotting a very short pony, waving to his brother as he won the race.

“That sounds like a very funny story indeed, my love,” Laria agreed.

“I like it here Mother. I didn’t like it at King Tourgier’s’ palace. He always looked at me with mean eyes.” Calen made a comical grimace. “You were never so happy as you are here.”

“Yes, I like it here too Calen. Much better.” Laria agreed.

Calen cuddled up by her side and sighed. “I’m sleepy.”

Laria squeezed him closer and smoothed his hair back with her other hand. He settled his head on her lap and quickly drifted into a trusting slumber. She gently moved him onto the bed and watched him until he was deeply asleep.

Moving to the balcony, the deep plum twilight enfolded Laria in a velvet embrace. She was restless and could not settle into the beauty before her. She gazed out onto the distant dark hills, reaching out with her heart to Patras, hoping there would be a quick resolution to the unrest without needless conflict and harm to the people. If there had been news from the Veretian or Akielen scouts and messengers, she had not been informed, nor had she seen the Kings since the morning.

She felt a presence behind her and swiftly turned to see Laurent entering from her rooms. He was alone and informally dressed in the new fashion the Kings sometimes both wore, a kilted skirt and belted tunic of fine linen, this one finely embroidered in blue on cream.

He moved past her to lounge on the stone balustrade across from her and gazed out at the gathering night, his elegant profile coin stamped in the twilight. He turned, his face grave. “Thank you Laria. Thank you for keeping Auguste’s son safe, for raising him with great love and for bringing him to meet me. I cannot express to you the joy I have had today in discovering him. It is like having Auguste back in a way.”

“He is very much like Auguste is he not?” Laria said eagerly.

“Yes, it is uncanny. He reminds me of you as well. Those famous sea green eyes of yours. That way he has of getting everyone to do what he wants without trying.” Another welcome glimmer of the boy she once knew.

“He is asleep?” Laurent asked.

“Yes, rather worn out by excitement. You have his adoration. He couldn’t stop speaking of you. He thinks you are very funny,” Laria added in a deadpan voice but raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“You don’t think I am funny? I used to give you fits of laughter if I recall, as I crept up on Auguste wooing you. You will recall the time the two of you were picnicking under an apple tree? I’d lain in wait within and began singing a filthy song I learned from the guardsmen just as Auguste moved to kiss you. Or perhaps the time I found your hat and wore it in the maze while Auguste chased me about thinking it was you?” drawled Laurent.

Laria admitted, “You were mischievous and bedeviling, I will grant you! I had not thought to find you so still.”

“Calen brings out the best in me it would seem. As you once did,” Laria gave him a tentative smile, her instincts on alert. Laurent had something more to speak with her about and she feared bad news from Patras.

“What news from Patras?” she asked anxiously.

“None yet, I am sorry. We expect scouts to return day after tomorrow.”

He followed quickly with a seemingly casual query. “What are your plans for Calen?”

“My mother has decided it would be fitting for Calen to inherit her family’s small holdings in Vere. He has learned Veretian as you know and is learning the laws and customs of Vere, in preparation,” replied Laria. “I had thought to travel there in a few days, with your permission, perhaps settle him at Malensay. Much depends on the situation in Patras.”

Laurent took a steadying breath. “I have a proposal for you to consider, before the reports come in from Patras and the situation becomes more complex.”

“Are you offering me your consort again Laurent? He is besotted with you. I am not interested in being in a loveless arrangement again.” Laria shifted in her seat and faced him more deliberately, preparing for whatever came.

“You underestimate yourself lady. I have no doubt you might find a mutual attraction if that match were made.” Laurent gave her an appraising glance. “No, that is not it precisely.”

“Then what precisely?” Laria asked guardedly.

“Have you never considered he is the true heir to Vere?”

“No, I had not. When you ascended I believed you would take a Queen and have children, despite your alliance of countries and kings.” Laria’s surprise and confusions was clear in her voice.

“As Auguste’s son Calen is the rightful heir of Vere. If you and I were to marry he would be legitimized.”

“An alliance of convenience?” Laria’s tone was sarcastic, even bitter. “I know you have not harbored a deep tendre for me all these years. Damianos has your heart, that is unmistakable.”

“Yes, Damianos has my heart. Yet you had it once. You were often in my thoughts during the years after Marlas. That spring was my last good memory, and you my only trusted friend, before everything changed.”

“We are barely reacquainted! I am in no frame of mind to even consider this presently!” Laria exclaimed. “Calen is just a child. I had hoped for a peaceful life for him, not the burdens of ruling. How could we know if he is suited to kingship?”

Laurent said nothing. He remained composed and his posture insouciant to the point of arrogance. Laria looked a lovely tempest, disturbed and disturbing.

“I see your temper is much as it has always been,” Laurent observed looking over her flushed cheeks and chest, the fire snapping in her eyes.

“You do not get to decide this! I have just retrieved my life and Calen’s from the machinations of men. Perhaps I will take refuge in Vask, where women rule and are respected.”

“I have no doubt you would hold your own in Vask. Do you still practice at the sword?” asked Laurent, too casually.

“Yes, of course.” Laria dismissed the question with an impatient gesture and then spoke decisively. “I will order my life and Calen’s from now on. Be on notice Laurent, that your oft described serpentine mind will find a match in the strength of my will to choose my way as I have never had the right to do before! Speak to me further when you have realized this.”

Here was a Queen, not his childhood friend. She was all but ordering him out of the rooms of his own castle.

“Calen is Vere’s rightful heir. We will speak again when you have thought on this.” Laurent replied firmly, giving her an imperious look and then quietly leaving as he came. “You can come out now Lady Shevenay,” he threw over his shoulder.

Shevenay emerged from the shadowed inner alcove, where she had been on guard. “Do we ride to Vask?”

Laria’s eyes burned into hers. “I do not wish to wrench Calen from newly found Uncle. Yet, I mistrust Laurent. If he thinks to take Calen from me or force me into a marriage, it cannot be risked. Bring Stravos. It is time for a council.”

\-----------------------------------

Damen awaited Laurent in their chambers. Laurent glided in with a deadly grace. Damen knew this pose boded ill. “I take it the Queen of Patran was underwhelmed by your offer?”

“Underwhelmed, overwhelmed, offended, all of these. My timing was exceedingly poor. She has had her life dictated by others and she became as angry as a mountain cat at my presumption I could do so. She may be halfway to Vask by mid-day.”

Damen came to stand by him. “You may have rushed your suit,” he observed wryly.

“I suppose I did. I am an idiot. Meeting Auguste’s son has upset my entire world. I want to hold on to him as if he were Auguste and he is not. He has had his life disrupted as has Laria. I also misjudged Laria. She is a Queen, not the innocent girl I once knew.”

Damen realized he had neglected to convey pertinent information to Laurent. “I did not remember to tell you this earlier, but Laria was forced into marriage with Tourgier when he raped her and the Patran Counsel decided their marriage was reparation. She had no choice. She was forced to marry her rapist.” Damen was acutely aware how this would affect Laurent.

Laurent’s face tensed and paled. “As much as that information would have been useful an hour ago, Damen, I thank you for it now.”

“Of course I should have thought to tell you. There has been many revelations in the last day, this one not the least.”

After some pensive thought, Laurent added. “I can make this right. I should not disturb her tonight but I will send a message.” He swiftly went to their writing table and wrote a quick missive. Calling for their servant, he said, “Take this to Queen Laria.”

Damen did not ask what he had written. Instead, he reclined back on the divan, with his muscular arms open along the back, spreading his legs. He was wearing a simple linen kilt, having removed his tunic earlier. He knew the power of his body was an immediate lure to Laurent. He felt like making him come to him, something he rarely indulged in. Laurent was not the only one unsettled by the day’s events. He found himself, his heart and his cock aching with need.

Damen let the demand of his body show in his face. He stood and unpinned his kilt, so it fell from his hips and released it from where it momentarily clung. He stood rampant and let Laurent take him in, before sitting again with his legs apart, his sex heavy and arching towards his corded stomach.

Laurent’s eyes dilated as his gaze wandered over Damen’s body. He moved toward Damen slowly, tantalizingly. Damen watched him, at once intensely aroused and simply entranced by the love and desire in Laurent’s face.

Damen felt a rising need for something different than their usual slow, unwinding lovemaking. It felt like the rawness of his feelings since this afternoon’s revelations needed to be subsumed in a form of surrender.

Laurent leaned down cupping his face, taking his mouth gently, then breathing into his ear, “What do you need Damen?”

“I want you to take me.” The words bit out, coming from a place of tension he could hear betrayed by his voice. This was a fairly new and rather rare for him to suggest. He was surprised he liked it more than he had expected and predictably Laurent had quickly become rather devastatingly skilled at it. Laurent caressed his face with a look of profound understanding, that stripped him of any restraint. “Kneel Damen.”

Damen reacted to this simple command with a mixture of revolt and surrender. It went against his dominant nature, but called to something yielding within him that he was coming to embrace.

Kneeling on the couch, he clasped the padded backrest, his body taut with expectancy. He felt Laurent behind him, and he waited, what seemed very long, for Laurent to touch him. He reached out with his senses to feel Laurent’s intentions and mood, his body straining. His skin quivered as he received Laurent’s fingers lightly stroking along his flank, then across his back down to his already oiled entrance. Laurent pushed him forward and he obeyed, lowering his shoulders and arching his ass upward. Laurent knelt behind him and slowly licked all around his entrance, inserting his fingers and tongue in inventive ways that had Damen’s cock pulsing with want. He couldn’t stop himself from thrusting helplessly in frustrated need while cries of pleasure escaped his mouth without thought.

Lost in sensation he startled when Laurent was suddenly next to him, taking a handful of his hair to turn his face sideways and kissed him with devastating thoroughness, the taste of his own musk and the almond oil mixed in their mouths. Only then, did Laurent step within his view and disrobe, making a gift of his beauty and evident desire. Laurent’s expression, loving and mysterious, caught his breath and tethered his eyes to Laurent’s wide-open gaze . The very air stilled as Laurent regarded him as if he held every memory of them together and knew him, knew him inside and out in ways he planned to use to drive him mad. Laurent came back to kiss him, breathing, “Damen” with such tenderness Damen felt his control shred and he spiraled further into surrender.

Laurent stepped out of his eyesight and was once more behind him. His clever fingers gently played with his nipples, stroking down his abdomen with his other hand, but never far enough, while he sucked, licked and bit his sensitive neck and shoulders, murmuring words of love in his ear. Finally Laurent grasped his cock, heavy and aching to spend and began lightly stroking the glans, alternating with pumping him strongly, bringing him close, only to move back into oiling and caressing his heavy sack, alternating again and again. Damen surrendered, releasing all control over their play. His world became the presence of Laurent, his touch, their mingled scent, his own inarticulate utterances and straining to contain the need to fuck.

When he released all need for a conclusion or a preference for how Laurent proceeded and was in a haze of all-encompassing pleasure, Laurent entered him gently. Damen couldn’t stop himself from pushing back and Laurent steadied him, firmly holding his powerful hips in place. Then the teasing began in earnest. There was never a predictable rhythm, it was deep and slow, it was fast and shallow. At times Laurent focused on hitting the place of his greatest pleasure, precisely and relentlessly. Damen shuddered and sweated and cried out with the intensity of his need for more. Laurent stilled and grasped Damen’s cock in his oiled hand. He brought Damen to the brink with strong strokes and then continued with that precise, masterful rocking until Damen felt a rolling, cresting release that started deep inside and overtook his entire body. He heard himself cry hoarsely and then he came so intensely his body clenched on the edge of ecstasy and pain.

Once he quieted Laurent said softly, intently “Feel me now Damen” and with deep sure strokes pulsed within him and fell against his back. They sprawled onto the divan, tangled in each other’s bodies.

Laurent gave him a look of deep understanding. “You are so beautiful like this Damen. You think I love you for your strength and power, how you can command me in bed. How you can love me mindless. I do. To see you thus, trusting me so fully, giving me all control, of you undone by my pleasuring of you, this side of you I love just as well.”

Damen felt surprisingly shy. Laurent’s words were making the heat rise up his chest into his face and he realized he was blushing. He didn’t often consider how he appeared to him. He was usually entirely engrossed in every aspect of Laurent.

“Nothing would change with us Damen. Nothing.” Damen realized he’d been needing to hear just those words. He felt a surge of relief. “I think I know that now. I didn’t realize until now that I doubted it.”

“Damen, what is in your mind?” Laurent asked. “I know you well and if you are agreeing to this possible alliance between Laria and I in some ill-advised attempt at penance for Auguste’s death, then that is unnecessary. That has long been settled between us.”

“You haven’t actually asked me for agreement. We haven’t decided together.” Damen began, in that moment to realize that until now, he had simply acceded to Laurent’s plan. His acquiescing had been instinctual. “Yes, I see this as a way for you to have Auguste back in a manner. I want this for you.”

Laurent trapped Damen’s eyes looking for any equivocation. Damen evenly returned his gaze with the honest willingness he had arrived at. Satisfied, Laurent simply said, “Then it is agreed.”

 

Chapter Five

The next morning Damen and Laurent were awakened with a report that Laria and her entourage had ridden out at dawn. “It appears last night’s missive did not have the effect I’d hoped.” Damen heard Laurent’s regret.

The stable master reported. “They called for their horses as the guard changed and they were given. They were traveling lightly but retrieved their weapons. They started along the eastern road.”

“Towards Vask,” Damen confirmed.

He and Laurent rode out alone, refusing a guard. They set a steady pace and at mid-morning they came upon the small party.

Laria and Shevenay had heard their approach and signaling to the rest to stay, turned and rode towards them. They rode in concert on their fine, swift palfreys. Laria as well as Shevenay were dressed in the Vask fashion, hair braided, wearing riding leathers and boots. Both were armed, Shevenay with her usual swords at her back and Laria with one by her side.

“You left without saying goodbye.” Laurent said neutrally.

“Yes. I have decided to take refuge in Vask with Shevenay’s family. Where women rule and I shall rule myself.” Laria replied coolly. She gathered her restless prancing mare who seemed to have caught her mood and yearn to return to the trail. Damen was startled to see someone he had perceived as a lovely and pliant woman give Laurent such a glacial greeting .

“Laria, you need not leave to keep your agency. I will not press my suit for marriage and for Calen to be heir.” Laurent said stiffly.

Laria narrowed her eyes and looked at Laurent for a long-considered moment. “Nonetheless, I find I am need of some mountain air.”

Damen observed their standoff. Laurent had said words that came close to an apology but his untouched, unmoved air gave no reassurance. Laria had the demeanor of a combatant who awaits the opportunity to engage in an all-out fight. He wanted to bridge this misunderstanding between old friends, but kept his counsel.

Laurent released his reins and sat back in the saddle. “I don’t want you to leave,” Laurent said directly. “Not because of Calen, but because I desire for you to stay. I wish to start again and know my first friend as she is today. I overreached. I wanted to keep Calen as though he were mine to have. He isn’t. You are his mother. You are a Queen. I recognize your rights as such.”

Laria softened slightly. “Thank you for that. I will consider what you have said.” She nodded to Damen, wheeled her horse and cantered back to her small guard.

“Well, that went well.” Damen observed. “How good is she with that sword?” Damen asked curiously.

“Good enough to ride to Vask with a few guards and be unafraid to enter Empress’s enclave it seems.”

Damen shrugged. “Where she might face the challenge of combat to earn her place, Queen or not.”

“Yes, the Vaskians honor only strength, not rank.”

“I have never wooed a woman. Do I follow her or let her go?” Laurent asked. “Come now, you are the great seducer of the untouchable Jokaste. Certainly you have advice.”

“This must be your way Laurent, not mine.” Jokaste was another lifetime and the memory of his mannered wooing of her felt vaguely distasteful.

Ahead, Laria, Shevenay and Stravos were in discussion. Shevenay gave a piercing look towards them, like a hawk gives before leaping to the hunt. Calen, riding pillion with Stravos looked small and bright in his dark riding leathers. He gave a small wave of greeting, which Laurent returned. Damen said “This must be confusing for Calen.” Laurent replied tersely. “This is entirely my fault. I have been a poor friend to Laria.”

“Laria!” Laurent called. “May I approach?” A battlefield decision, Damen thought humorously.

Laria turned quickly, her long braid whirling and inclined her head. As they met in the center, Damen watched Laurent look at her with tenderness and regret apparent in his posture and profile. Laria had her face down, seemingly reticent to engage his eyes and Laurent moved his stallion nearer. She looked up startled. Laurent said something that made her laugh and then she allowed him to take her hand. Damen realized with a lurch in his stomach that Laurent did not need any advice on wooing a woman.

Chapter Six

So the renewal of their friendship and a tentative wooing began. Damen returned to familiar routines, less often with Laurent than before. He stepped back as Laria, Calen and Laurent became better acquainted. The news out of Patras was heartening. The faction led by Prince Torveld had taken the field against Aselin and won the day, but Aselin had not been captured. Others were rumored to be mounting bids for the throne but as yet had gathered thin support.

He approached the practice ring for his morning exercise and was met with the sound of swords clashing rhythmically with accompanying Vaskian curses. As he entered, he watched intrigued as Shevenay wielded double short swords against Stravos long sword. She was fluid as a snake, twisting and weaving, her swords whirling. Stravos had a steady, implacable style that kept her at bay.

He studied her moves, beginning to decipher a pattern when she caught Stravos sword neatly between hers, twisted not only her arms but pivoted her entire body and sent his sword flying. “Well done!” he called spontaneously. Stravos acknowledged him with a bow and then walked over to the wall to hang his practice weapon.

Shevanay beckoned to Damen, “Want to try me?” The way she said it, voice husky, one hip cocked made Damen unsure what she was suggesting. He came closer, seeing her golden eyes wicked with innuendo. Oh, she knew what she was doing.

“I would hate to hurt you,” he replied looking down at her from his superior height.

“Who knows? Perhaps I’d like it,” she returned, twirling one of her swords in her hand.

“Showing off?”

“Not yet.” She shot back. “You’ll know when I do.”

Damen knew he had enough control not to hurt her, so why not? She had a novel style. It was worth picking up and picking apart.

The first engagement was surprising. She was exceptionally elusive and that double sword defense was effective. Her style was a melding of sword work and unusual acrobatic moves as if she fought with her body and swords as one weapon.

Damen stepped back for a moment, taking measure of her. “Who are you?” he asked curiously. “Certainly no ordinary guard or lady of the court.”

She prowled around him and remained engaged. “How observant you are.”

She came at him again, feinting with one arm and then as he was not drawn in, following with a deceptive stagger and an upward plunge that he caught less than neatly on parry.

“I am the Vaskian champion.”

“How did you come to be with the Queen?”

“I chose it.” Well then, that was answer enough Damen supposed.

He began a deceptively lazy approach and swiftly moved to a powerful set of strikes. She engaged his power with a flurry of counter rhythmed retorts. It took a good five minutes to unarm her from one sword.

She neatly flipped to the side, somehow retrieving that sword midway and stood a few paces away. “That was showing off,” she quipped with another twirl of one sword.

She waited, rather indolently, and when Damen attacked this time he brought much more of what he’d been holding back. Shevenay held her own for a few passes, but then he got inside her guard and he took her to the ground.

As he lay upon her, she bucked and squirmed in an almost lascivious manner. Surely not her intention, but it began having an effect. Then she unmistakably ground against his cock and growled in his ear. “You might help out just a little.”

He raised himself up to look her in the face as she said, “Don’t leave. I just got you where I wanted you. Almost.” Her eyes were hot and bright with determination.

“You…”

“You don’t think you beat me that easily did you?” she asked incredulously. Looking rather offended. “You are the legendary Damianos, the premier warrior of our age. As much as I was enjoying our little bout, I have another game. I am the Vaskian champion, you are Damianos. Your fame on the field and the coupling fire precedes you. I desire a child with both our strengths.”

Damen rolled to his side and looked at her with amusement. “Right here? Now? Is that your plan?”

Suddenly she whipped her leg around his and in an acrobatic leap was straddling him. He automatically countered and pinned her beneath him again. She squirmed with obvious delight, “To begin with.”

Damen could not help but have appreciation for her honest lust and envisioned a joining that was uncomplicated and very athletic. He had never bedded such a powerful woman.

“Let us discuss this.” He quickly stood and stepped back, anticipating another attack. Shevenay lay on the sawdust, legs sprawled, leaning back on her hands. “Must we talk?” she asked irritably.

Damen raised his hands in surrender and had an inspiration “I have an option for you. Have you heard of the prowess of the Akielen Kyros, Nikandros?”

\---------------------------------------------------

That evening Damen and Laurent were dining and Damen recounted the tale of his encounter with Shevanay.

“Are you sure Nikandros will be amenable to your offering him at stud?” Laurent asked.

“I suggested she use the same approach as she had with me. It would have worked well with me once. Nikandros will be very willing. He enjoys an aggressive coupling.”

“Tell me more,” Laurent replied softly.

“I don’t fuck and tell.” Damen said in mock admonishment.

“I find your stories surprisingly arousing. Have you been party to one of these aggressive couplings?”

“On occasion.”

Laurent cocked his head. “And yet we never have aggressive couplings.” Laurent seemed deceptively casual as he made this observation, but Damen sensed his underlying uncertainty. He could not help but be charmed by Laurent’s unexpected vulnerability, perhaps jealousy.

“I think there are reasons you prefer slow lovemaking. Reasons upon reasons. I have come to prefer it as I prefer all things about you.” Damen reached across the table and slowly caressed the underside of Laurent’s wrist.

“I kissed Laria today.” Laurent confided, without preamble, his voice a bit unsure but his gaze pure blue honesty. Damen’s eyes dropped to his full mouth, imagining Laria, lovely and open in his arms. Laurent kissing her like Damen knew he kissed, with all the seductive variations he had come to devastatingly employ. Laurent continued, “For a while.” Damen felt a flare of territorial heat. He unconsciously clamped Laurent’s wrist.

“Your wooing moves apace.” Damen said somewhat tightly.

“I don’t think it’s going to work Damen.” Laurent paused, his voice lowered. “I kept thinking of you.” Laurent brought his other hand to hold theirs together. “I missed you. I want only your kisses.” This said so artlessly, so unmistakably truly that Damen was a bit ashamed at the tension that released from his chest. “As I want only yours.”

“Laria, said she understood. She also had a difficulty.”

“She have a lover she prefers?”

“It seems she and Shevenay have been lovers since after Calen’s birth. Moreover, she admitted that as attractive as she found me, she desires to find a true match not a dynastic one. She loves me like a brother.” Laurent gave Damen a rueful glance.

“Oh,” was all Damen found to say at first, but then, “It is hard to fathom you are not irresistible to all others.”

“Apparently I am not.” Laurent said, with something like relief in his voice.

“How was it for you?” Damen asked curiously.

“Different. Pleasant. Nothing like with you.” A sweet admission.

“Nothing has ever been like it is with you.”

“Would you have minded? Sharing?” Laurent asked, watching Damen intently.

“Yes.” Damen’s reply came without thought. “Would you?”

Laurent simply said. “I would.”

“I think we may wait for an heir. It appears I have a daughter in Vask. As Calen grows he will show his inclinations and gifts. We have time to change the outdated laws in Vere and Akielos concerning illegitimacy and develop new orders of succession.” Damen stroked Laurent’s gilt hair away from his face, as always needing to touch him.

“We have time.” Laurent said in this warm, tender tone that ignited the memory of when they had but one night to carry them through a lifetime. Damen recalled his own desperate words, “I can’t have this for just one night,” and Laurent’s simple, heartbreaking reply, “One night and one morning.”

Laurent continued the direction of his thoughts. “You gave me your heart. Have I treated it gently?”

In response, Damen gently moved to cup Laurent’s face in his hands, and held his eyes for long moments as they breathed together on the edge of a kiss. The love he felt for Laurent was a live thing, a pulsing current, that melted his bones, seared his blood and couldn’t be contained by his heart. Laurent’s eyes widened and darkened as he reacted to the intensity radiating from Damen. He made a soft sound of wonder and then a shimmering joy lit his eyes. “Kiss me”, Laurent murmured against Damen’s mouth and he did, searing their complicated past and their glorious present into one.

 

Chapter 7

So began a time of simple pleasures shared between the five of them. They dined together, rode together and on occasion sparred together. Laria brought a singular joy to all she did, even sword practice. Damen and Laurent watched as Laria and Shevenay practiced a set of acrobatic, dance like sequences, first without, and then with double swords. Damen declined another round with Shevenay.

The fall festival was upon them, and following it, Damen would take up residency in Akeilos and Laurent in Vere. The joining of the kingdoms was not without periods of conflict and being in their former capitals continued to be necessary. At times they took up residency together but this time they had agreed the best strategy was to deal with issues separately.

Nikandros was arriving for the festival, a harvest celebration that merged Akielion and Veretian customs. Shevenay asked a few pointed questions about Nikandros pedigree as a fighter and several more indirect ones regarding his stamina. She seemed content to simmer her blatant admiration for Damen. She declared she was riding in the okton and no one dared nay say her. Laria laughed at Damen’s inquiry as to if Shevenay had ever engaged in similar games. “Oh, have you never heard tell of the Vaskian rites of champions?” she asked slyly. It seemed to involve trick riding while dodging arrows, and generally, death.

Some evenings Laurent and Laria entertained them with stories of Auguste. Calen sat mesmerized often sitting near Laurent, looking between his mother and uncle in delight. When other adult talk became tiresome for an eight-year-old, he often leapt on Laurent and initiated playful wrestling, which made the puppy Laurent had given him jump into the mix. It charmed Damen to watch Laurent shed years of restraint and burdens in the simple joy of play with his nephew.

Laria and Shevenay became more informal around them, but gave little indication of the true nature of their relationship. Except for how near the close of an evening, Shevenay once took Laria’s hand, saying, “Time for bed,” pulling Laria to her feet, flustered and blushing. She tried to make polite goodbyes but Shevenay growled, “Now.” Laria didn’t even glance back as she was ushered from the room.

Damen and Laurent shared a look of amusement. “So, that is how it is between them.”

“Yes, Shevenay seems to enjoy being in charge.” Laurent commented mildly.

“Laria doesn’t seem to mind sharing. She was amused by Shevenay’s queries regarding Nikandros potential and appeared rather interested in hearing about him herself. I think she was the one who asked if Nikandros was as well made as you.” Laurent noted.

“Oh, that would be an intrigue. Laria is everything Nikandros would be enchanted by. If she turns the full arsenal of her seductive powers on him I predict he’ll quickly be lost.” Damen anticipated Nikandros arrival tomorrow with his usual happiness of being with his oldest friend. Now he warmly entertained the diversion of Nikandros being pursued by Laria and Shevenay, both the epitome of female allure in different ways.

Nikandros arrived early the next day and breakfasted with Laurent and Damen. “You look well my friend,” Damen commented. Nikandros gave a grin that showed off his white smile and deep dimple. “As do you both.”

“Feeling strong?” Laurent asked mildly, looking Nikandros over with a slight smile.

Nikandros stretched comfortably, “You may test me later and decide for yourself.”

“Shall we tell him?” Damen asked turning to Laurent.

“It is better left a surprise.” Laurent answered. His face guileless but for that gleam of blue-eyed mischief.

Nikandros glanced between them. “Will I like this surprise?”

Laurent allowed a quirk of amusement into his expression, “Very much.”

Damen barely held in his laughter and Nikandros gave him a look that recalled their many escapades together. “Damianos?” he said with a note of warning in his voice.

Laria was announced and she entered with a slightly suggestive sway to her hips Damen hadn’t noticed before. She was radiant, her luxuriant dark copper hair swept away from her face, emphasizing its heart shape and making her kohl lined azure eyes even more alluring. She wore a simple ivory silk dress, clasped at the waist with a jeweled belt. She was a goddess. Damen heard Nikandros involuntarily gasp. Laria lowered her eyes and then smiled luminously, directly into his eyes. Nikandros was a man stunned.

“I am going to enjoy this.” Laurent said quietly.

Damen replied, “Wait until he goes to morning practice and Shevenay pounces on him.” He was enjoying Nikandros's obvious arousal. He well knew that charged aura of proprietary masculine interest his friend projected towards Laria. The glance he threw to Damen said, "Mine", as clearly as it had all the times they competed for a lover in their youth.

Laria settled herself near Nikandros and adjusted her posture to full advantage just as Shevenay sauntered in behind her, apparently waiting to make her own entrance. She had adopted a kilt like the Kings wore, which naturally revealed a shocking length of finely molded leg, while her short leather vest revealed a decidedly feminine shape. Her golden eyes were accented with kohl as well, giving her a barbaric splendor. It was the low purr of approval she uttered as she avidly looked over Nikandros that had his gaze startled to where she stood.

Shevenay seated herself close to Laria, and Nikandros, regaining himself, leaned toward them confidently, like a lion reviewing his pride.

Laurent stated decisively. “He’s not going to make it to morning practice.”


End file.
